


Made to be Broken

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel and Spike just can't seem to follow the rules...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rule #1 - No sex in the office

No sex in the office. It was Angel's cardinal rule. Never mind that they had started shagging like crazed weasels two nights after he became solid and hadn't stopped yet, never mind that Spike spent almost every waking and sleeping hour at Wolfram & Hart, the rule still stood. Logically, Spike had to admit, it made sense. After all, with a vampire secretary and any number of demon clients, sex in the office was just asking for trouble.

Of course, Spike had never been one for following rules, except as a checklist of things to be done. And sometimes he wondered if it would be such a fucking tragedy if it were well-known they were shagging. It wasn't like Spike could be the one to provide that dreaded 'moment of true happiness', after all, and the 'evil, soulless thing' argument from Sunnydale no longer applied. So really, what harm would it do, except for embarrassing the hell out of Angel's precious humans? But Angel wouldn't like that, and a happy Angel made for a well-shagged and happy Spike, so Spike reluctantly kept quiet and followed the rules.

And just because there was no  _actual_  sex in the office didn't mean there was no  _prelude_  to sex in the office, right? Teasing Angel into dragging him upstairs was quickly becoming his second-favorite thing to do, and he was getting pretty damn good at it, too. Take today, for instance. He'd made sure to sit across from Angel for the weekly staff meeting, and toyed with his pen all through the various presentations. And if the look in the old boy's eyes was anything to go on, he should be reaching the boiling point right about -

"That's it, everyone. Spike, I want to see you in my office.  _Now._ " It was quite obviously a command, and one that drew frowns from several of the humans.

Throwing a smirk in Angel's direction, he said, "What, time for my afternoon scolding, is it?"

"Just get in there," Angel growled, giving him a shove as he passed. Wesley stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something, but a hard glare and slamming door cut him off.

Spike took three steps into the office, and when he glanced back to see if Angel was following him, he caught sight of a black blur before he was tackled. The momentum carried them across the room, and they hit the wall behind Angel's desk hard enough to crush a lung if either of them had been human. Angel's mouth was already fused to Spike's, an urgent demand that couldn't really be considered a kiss, but still managed to curl his toes and send heat skittering down his spine.

There was no seduction, no teasing, no preliminaries. Just Angel's fingers fumbling with Spike's belt, desperate for the feel of skin. Spike arched up, gasping into Angel's mouth when two big hands tore his jeans open, and one slipped inside while the other tugged the pants down to his thighs. Angel wrenched his mouth away, wrapped his hand around Spike's cock and began to stroke him, hard and fast.

"Evil little shit," he muttered, dark eyes intent as he watched pleasure chase shock from Spike's face. "You know how hard it makes me to watch your hands move like that and you did it through the entire meeting." A squeeze punctuated his words and the gutteral moan from the blond only made him move faster. "Gonna make you pay for that, Spike. Gonna bend you over the desk and fuck you bloody."

Spike clawed at the wall, as though he was trying to climb it, the onslaught of Angel's fingers driving him to the brink with a dizzying bliss that bordered on pain. Too much, too fast... "I'm not gonna last if you keep that up," he gasped, hips bucking up into Angel's hand.

"Don't want you to last," was the steady reply, the evenness of the older man's voice at odds with the burning heat in his dark eyes and the rapid pace of his hand.

"But - fuck, do that again! What about Rule 1?"

"Rules were made to be broken. Now shut up and come for me." The harsh command, along with the knowledge that Angel had just thrown his most stringent rule out the window, sent a flash of heat straight to Spike's core and he arched up, his cry muffled by Angel's mouth as it slammed down on his again. He came in hard spurts that felt like they were wrenched out of his spine until finally he sagged back against the wall with a low groan.

Angel bit Spike's lip and drew back, smiling at the sight of his boneless childe. He raised his hand to Spike's mouth, eyes narrowing as he watched the pink tongue dart out to lick him clean without being told. Soft lips closed around one finger, drawing him into that talented mouth, taking him all the way in. Angel groaned, dick hardening to the point of pain. "Keep doing that and it's gonna be fast and hard," he warned.

Hazy blue eyes peered at him from beneath long lashes and when Spike tilted his head back, teeth raked over the pad of his finger. The big man growled and pulled his hand free, barely unbuttoning his pants when a knock on the door and the sound of Wesley's voice made him freeze. "Angel? We need to talk. Now."

Angel swore. He'd forgotten all about his friends just outside, too lost in his lust to care about who might've walked in on them.  _This_  was why he'd made the rule, why fucking Spike was dangerous, this temptation to put everything else aside, let the world fall away until it was just the two of them. He briefly considered trying to brazen it out, but one look at Spike would tell anyone what had happened. There was no way to hide the white patches that were already soaking in and drying on his shirt, or the loopiness that all but screamed he'd just come his brains out.

"Under the desk!" he hissed, giving the blond a gentle push. Any other time, Spike might have protested, but between the shock of the broken rule and the warmth of the post-orgasmic haze, he barely managed a smirk before scrambling into the space as directed. Angel lunged for his chair as soon as Spike was out of sight, scooting into place just before Wesley walked in.


	2. Rule #2 - No sex in front of friends or coworkers

"Come on in, Wes." Angel did his best to sound as though he'd done nothing more than yell at Spike and then sit down to sign paperwork.

Wesley walked into the office, followed by Fred, and Angel silently damned his rotten luck all over again. He could distract either of them separately, but when they closed ranks they were almost as effective as Cordelia in getting whatever they wanted. The Englishman gestured for Fred to take a seat, then sat as well. "Angel, I suppose there's really no easy way to begin this, so I'll-"

"Where's Spike?" Fred's soft voice cut into Wes' obviously carefully-planned speech, and Wesley started.

"Good heavens, I hadn't even realized he wasn't here. I suppose he should be present for this, though. Will he be back soon, Angel?"

Angel gestured towards the door that led out to the lobby. "He, uh, was being his usual pain in the ass, so I threw him out." He felt a hand settle on his knee and squeeze, a silent reassurance that Spike understood the words for the lie they were.

"I see." Disapproval was evident in Wesley's voice and Fred's worried features. "Well, perhaps it's just as well. We needed to talk to you about Spike."

"Spike?" Angel's voice squeaked, partly from the idea that his coworkers wanted to talk to him about his childe, but mostly from the fact that said childe's hand had just slid from knee to crotch and squeezed. He coughed and tried to speak in a normal voice. "What about him?"

"We know it can't be easy for you to be dealing with him again, after such a long separation. And the... difficulties you and he have experienced in your relationship through the years are certainly -"

"Wes, just spit it out." Clever fingers had managed to get his pants unzipped and were worming their way inside, and Angel really needed them to leave so he drag Spike upstairs and fuck the living daylights out of him.

"You're really mean to Spike." Angel felt his stomach drop when he looked at Fred and saw the hurt in her eyes.

He opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't mean, just the opposite in fact, when he remembered that he'd wanted to keep this a secret. They wouldn't understand, would just worry about Angelus coming out again and might even have problems with him having a male lover. No, he couldn't tell them. Angel shut his mouth with a snap, then nearly bit his tongue when he felt a hand wrap around his prick and work it free of his pants.

"I don't know as I'd say mean, exactly," Wesley hedged. "But while I recognize that Spike can certainly be a trial to deal with, you are unduly harsh at times. I do believe that he's trying to make a change, and while he has a soul, we must remember that it is still a relatively recent development, and that he would almost definitely benefit from any good will and example..."

Angel let his mind wander as Wes began to delve into his thoughts on Spike's moral pathways. He didn't like to think about the desperately hurting man that Buffy had spoken of when they talked after the last battle. He much preferred to dwell on the way the blond looked writhing naked on his bed. Spike was made for sex, created for the erotic, and while Drusilla was Angelus' worst sin, the rejection and warping of the sensual poet wasn't far behind it.

The hand around the base of his dick squeezed, the immediate jolt yanking him out of his thoughts before they could get too maudlin or self-castigating. A light touch ghosted up the length of his cock, and when a lush, wet caress swiped over the head, he yelped. His tongue! The little bastard was  _licking_  him right in front of his friends!

"Angel?" Angel snapped back to attention to find both humans looking at him. From the tone of his voice and his disgruntled expression, Wesley had apparently been trying to get his attention for some time, and Angel hurried to apologize.

"Sorry, I was just... thinking. I mean, maybe you're right and I need to give Spike a little more credit.

His two friends exchanged a worried look before Fred leaned forward. "We're not trying to pass judgement, Angel. It's just that - well, you've got us and Spike doesn't have anyone - except you, that is. And he just seems so hurt sometimes when you yell at him, that we wondered if maybe, just a little effort could make a difference. After all, we all need..."

Under the desk, Spike smiled to himself as he listened to Fred's rambling attempt to get Angel to be 'nice' to him. She was an absolute doll, that one, and how she'd managed to stay so innocent living around his sire and the likes of the others, he still couldn't understand. Some people just seemed to be untouched, he supposed. In that, Fred reminded him of Red and his Bit, both so sweet and certain that all the world's ills could be cured if people just sat down to afternoon tea and hugged each other.

As she continued, moving on from psychology to a rambling something about ions and attractors in nature, apparently likening him and Angel to protons and electrons, Spike turned his attention back to his very enjoyable task. As much as he wanted to swallow Angel whole and go to town, there just wasn't the room to do that under here without bumping his head on the underside of the desk. So he had to settle for licking his way up and back down, first with long sweeps, then with tiny flicks of his tongue.

It was different like this, teasing himself as much as Angel, but there were unexpected advantages. He could savor the taste of his sire's skin more, as well as fully appreciate the way the flavor changed as precome began to slide down the shaft. And he could hear the subtle hitch of breath as Angel struggled to keep calm in a way that he never had before. Usually they were both making too much noise to pay attention to those small things, although Spike decided he preferred the groans and dirty talk that never failed to make him almost as wild as Angel.

Angel wasn't even attempting to follow Fred's convoluted logic that led from talking about Spike to comparing the both of them to some kind of science project. Spike had started lapping at the head of his dick, little kittenish licks that threatened to drive him wild with need. He shifted uncomfortably, as close to squirming as he could remember being since he'd been paddled for being unable to sit still in church when he was eight. His discomfort skyrocketed when Spike took advantage of the movement to close his mouth around the tip of his cock, and Angel coughed in an attempt to cover the moan he couldn't quite hold back all the way.

His friend's obvious discomfort was immediately misunderstood by the well-intentioned Watcher, and he placed a hand over Fred's. "I think Angel's a bit upset that we might think he would mistreat Spike," he said quietly. Her soft exclamation of dismay was answered with a gentle squeeze before he looked back at Angel. "It's not that we believe you'd deliberately harm him. You're not a monster, after all. But we're concerned that you might not realize the extent to which Spike needs some form of connection. He has, after all, spent very little time on his own since his turning, if the Council's accounts are to be believed. And for a social creature like Spike, isolation can be..."

Spike flicked his tongue just under the head of Angel's cock and sucked as hard as he could without making any noise. He hoped the lecture was going to be over soon, even as he wondered how far he could push this. What would Angel do to him if he made him come in front of his friends? Suddenly curious beyond belief, he began to step up his efforts, moving from teasing to actively trying to get the other man off. He slid his hand along Angel's right thigh, fingers slipping inwards to knead the sensitive spot high up, the one that was always a surefire way to get thrown down and fucked, drawing back and letting his teeth scrape lightly over sensitive skin. It was difficult, since most of his best tricks weren't available, but Spike had never been one to let a little adversity stop him.

Angel nodded when he thought a question had been asked, wondering how much longer he could pretend to listen to Wes without giving himself away. He wanted to order the humans out of his office so he could push his chair back and watch Spike suck him off. His fingers itched to slide into the crisp bleached strands and guide his childe's head, and if he didn't get to fuck that pretty little mouth soon, he was going to either scream or pull Spike out of his hiding place and throw him down on his desk, friends and coworkers be damned.

"... glad to see that we can agree that the current state of affairs isn't working," Wesley said with a smile. This whole talk had gone much easier than he'd thought it would, and he glanced at Fred, who was beaming, all but bouncing in her chair. It had been her idea to corral Angel and try to get him to go easier on Spike, and she'd certainly earned the right to feel vindicated. The Englishman resolved to take her out to dinner as a way of both apology for his initial reluctance to approach Angel with this, and a celebration of their triumph. Hopefully there would be less tension between the champions now, and more work accomplished in the office.

The crack of wood giving way rang out like a gunshot, the sound very loud in the office. Wesley's head snapped back to Angel, and he began to have second thoughts about this whole thing. His friend's forehead glistened with a fine sheen of sweat, and the handsome features were set in a hard expression, as though carved from granite. Angel only wore that particular look when he was restraining himself from some act that he didn't want to regret later, such as telling his nosy friends off for butting into his life and tossing them bodily from his office. That, along with the way he was gripping the desktop that he'd just cracked, was enough to convince the Watcher to bring a hasty end to the impromptu meeting. Swallowing hard, Wesley rose from his chair. "Well, I believe we've taken enough of your time. Thank you for hearing us out, Angel." The terse nod he received in reply made him duck his head and hurry outside, Fred following close behind him.

Angel was only dimly aware of his friends' departure, his attention too focused on not howling with pleasure or bucking uncontrollably as he came, fluid jetting out of his cock in almost painful bursts of bliss that sent heat crawling over his skin. The click of the door closing mingled with the low rumble of Spike's amusement, the vibration making him shiver and groan softly. The younger man set about cleaning him with quick rasps of his tongue, tucking him away with an affectionate pat, and Angel slowly began to regain his senses. Wesley and Fred were gone, and he could only hope he hadn't agreed to anything too drastic, but he thought it just might be worth it if he had.

A tap on his knee reminded him that Spike was still under there and he muttered, "Oughta make you stay put until you freeze like that," but he pushed away from the desk anyway.

Spike crawled out from under the desk, licking his lips and practically purring with satisfaction. Angel stared at him with hot eyes, hands shooting out to grab him as soon as the blond stood up. He pulled him close and kissed him hard. "Arrogant little shit," he muttered, echoing his words from an hour ago. "

"Never said nothin' about not goin' down on you in front of your friends, pet."

Angel chuckled. "No, I guess I didn't."

"S'pose you're gonna add it to the list, then?"

He cuffed the younger man affectionately, wrapping his arm around the thin shoulders. "Sure. After all, we've already broken one rule today, might as well make two."

Spike looked up, blue eyes twinkling. "Care to go for three? Cause that one about food in bed could stand to go..."

Angel laughed, the rich timbre of it something that would've sent his friends scrambling for crosses and stakes had they still been around to hear. "I've got plans for the rest of the night that involve you being too busy to worry about doing anything in bed but screaming my name." He led Spike over to the private elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. "Now maybe if you wanted to review some of your rules..."

The doors slid shut on Spike's snorted, "Not bloody likely, mate."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rule #3 - No sex on an assignment

"What time is it?"

Angel looked at the dashboard clock for what had to be the tenth time in five minutes and sighed. Stakeouts were tedious enough, but he was beginning to think that stakeouts with Spike were a special breed of torture that even  _he_  hadn't been sadistic enough to inflict on people! "It's twenty seconds later than the last time you asked that question."

"Coulda fooled me. So when do we figure he ain't comin' out an' pack it in for the night?"

"We've only been here for forty-five minutes! You know, maybe Wesley's right and I need to have you tested for -" Angel forgot all about his friend's claim that Spike had ADD when he glanced over and caught sight of said hyperactive vampire. One pale hand was slowly kneading a black denim-covered lump. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Spike rolled his head over towards Angel, blue eyes locking with brown.

"God, is everything about sex with you? I mean, is it physically impossible for you to go for more than an hour without molesting someone, even if it is yourself?"

"Could, but what's the fun in that?" The blond wrapped his fingers around the shape of his cock, outlining it prominently and squeezed, moaning softly. "Sides, it's a way to pass the time, innit?"

"But we're supposed to be -"

"Watchin' a building, right?" When Angel nodded, Spike shrugged. "So you'll watch the building an' I'll watch you an' get off. Everybody's happy an' the good guys'll win in the end."

Angel couldn't take his eyes off those long fingers as they stroked and squeezed, molding the already tight jeans to the erection that strained against the cloth. "You're trying to distract me," he muttered.

"Is it workin'?"

"Maybe." When Spike started to unfasten his jeans, Angel shook his head. "Didn't say you could do that, did I? You wanna get off so bad that you gotta act like a kid without patience, then you can come in your pants like a kid." He smirked, pleased with himself for thinking that one up. See if that taught the little bastard a lesson or two, maybe even got him to rethink having to always get his own way.

He'd apparently forgotten that Spike had no shame whatsoever. After a second's dumbfounded silence, the blond licked his lips, hand already stealing back down to stroke his cock with a light, teasing touch. "Fuck, always gets me hot when you start givin' orders, especially dirty ones like that."

"Yeah? What else gets you hot?" Angel knew he shouldn't feed into this, should ignore the scent of the arousal that filled the car and the way Spike was starting to squirm in his seat, but he couldn't help himself. Not asking was impossible, like walking past a classical sculpture and not noticing or commenting on its beauty.

"Aside from the obvious stuff, like fuckin' an' your cock?" Angel chuckled and nodded. "Turnin' you on when everyone else's around. Your eyes go black an' hot, like you're only a second or two from just throwin' me over somethin' an' it makes me so hard..." He moaned, squirming as the words and his own hand created a double assault on his senses.

"So you  _were_  doing that on purpose in the meeting last week."

"Not that time. But I was in the lab yesterday." He'd leaned over the table to look at Fred's newest gadget, then when he'd been sure everyone except Angel was looking elsewhere, humped the table. Not long, just a few thrusts of his hips, but he'd known it got to the older man, especially when he was yelled at to 'get out of here and give Fred some space to work' almost immediately. And since everyone knew he couldn't be trusted on his own, Angel had personally taken him outside... and straight upstairs.

"That one was pretty obvious." But he really couldn't complain, since he'd gotten to bend Spike over his kitchen table and fuck him until they both collapsed. And even though he'd never admit it, the thought of taking Spike like that right in front of his friends was becoming a private fantasy ever since that day they'd nearly gotten caught in the office. "What else?"

"You bein' bad." At Angel's confused and slightly disapproving frown, Spike hurried to explain. "When you throw the rules out the window an' forget about bein' the noble hero cause you're too busy thinkin' about fuckin' me." He ground his hand down and groaned. "Seein' you lose control an' just take me... Chist, Angel, you've got no idea how fuckin' hot you are when you let go of it, do you?"

The steering wheel creaked in protest as Angel flexed his hands. His own dick was pressing up against his pants, but he refused to give in just yet. A glance over at Spike proved to be a huge mistake, because the blond had started thrusting up against his hand, hips flexing in a siren call of sensuality that would destroy him if he let it. "Spike," he whispered.

Spike moaned in answer, fucking harder into his jeans. His balls were drawing up tight and he could feel the heat in Angel's eyes as they drifted over him, hot enough to burn in the best way. "An' like this, when you're fightin' it," he muttered, the words falling faster as he got closer to the edge. "Knowin' you want me, knowin' you're gonna have me but not knowin' how much it's gonna take to get you there. Like now, sittin' there hard an' achin'... makes me wanna lean over an' touch you, suck you off, beg you to fuck... ohhhh so close to beggin'... want your cock, Angel, wanna feel it - oh, shit yeah - feel it inside meeeee - fuck, Angel!"

God, he was beautiful like this. Angel's hand dropped down of its own accord, fingers curling around his cock through his pants. He squeezed once and whispered, "Now, Spike. I wanna see you come now."

His only answer was a cry as Spike threw his head back and bucked wildly up against his hand. The sight of his childe coming was almost his undoing, but Angel grit his teeth and somehow managed to hold back. Another hour, he reminded himself. Then they could go home and he could spend the rest of the night fucking Spike into the mattress.

When he was sure he wasn't going to come, he opened his hand and moved it back to the steering wheel, then looked over at his childe, who was slumped in a boneless sprawl in his seat. "Feel better now?"

Spike nodded weakly. "Course, a shower an' new pants wouldn't be a bad thing."

"I should make you sit in wet jeans all night," Angel muttered, but he was already starting the car and putting it in gear as he spoke.

"But then you wouldn't get to fuck me in the shower."

That was true. Besides, Angel told himself, Greenway would be there tomorrow, and they'd get him then. And it wasn't like anyone was going to check to see how long he'd stayed out, especially when he told them he hadn't seen anything. But maybe they should take the private elevator from the garage straight up to the penthouse when they got back to Wolfram & Hart, just to be safe.


	4. Rule #4 - No sex in public places

It just wasn't fair. Angel drained his glass and handed it over to a nearby waiter, never taking his eyes off the slim figure on the other side of the room. Spike was tempting enough in his usual tight black jeans and T-shirt, but in the tuxedo he was wearing tonight, he was downright illegal. The platinum blond hair had been freed from the gel to fall in careless curls about the sculpted features, as though he'd just risen from his lover's bed. More than one pair of eyes had followed him when they'd walked in and the past two hours had been spent watching his childe be approached by men, women and demons. Everyone wanted to be near him, to share in his light, and it was growing tiresome. 

Angel tugged at his collar, reaching out to retrieve another glass. He was going to need every drop he could get tonight if he was going to somehow keep from dragging Spike away from the party and fucking him blind in the coatroom. Wrenching his gaze away from his childe, he glanced out at the dance floor to see Wesley and Fred swaying to the music, apparently lost in earnest conversation, if Fred's rapid-fire speech and Wesley's gentle smile were anything to go by. Maybe this was the night his friend got bold enough to make the move he'd been holding back for several years. Looking at the sparkle in Fred's eyes, he had to believe that Wesley wouldn't be making a mistake if he did. 

Dark eyes moved over the various couples on the floor, passing each by after a few seconds until another couple caught his attention. They were gorgeous; there was no other word for it. Light and dark, melding together in a dance that was as natural and beautiful as the sun rising. Neither was human - that was obvious with only the briefest glance, and while Angel knew the brunet to be a vampire, he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the blond might be. But one thing was for certain: they were obviously in love, eyes locked as they moved in a small circle, lost in their own private world, oblivious to everything except the man in their arms. 

While he watched, the blond's hand moved to cup the brunet's cheek and he lowered his head, their lips meeting in a brief kiss. It was soft and tender, chaste enough to belong to children, but Angel felt like the basest voyeur, uncomfortable at being witness to such a clear act of intimacy. There was something about the pair that made his chest tighten and his hands itch with a sense of... longing, as though he wanted - But that was ridiculous. He had everything he needed, from friends to a business that he was finally learning to wield the way he - 

"See somethin' you like?" A voice purred in his ear. 

"Shouldn't stand so close to me," he replied automatically. 

"Relax, will ya? Nobody's lookin' at us. Not with those two around. Reckon they'd like to play with us? Could ask 'em if you'd like..." 

He thought about that for a second, about seeing Spike caught between the two men, light and dark swarming over his lover while he watched. He pictured the blond's tanned hands stroking pale skin while longish black hair obscured the sight of Spike's cock. But instead of making him hot, the images left him cold. It wasn't like they'd never shared their bed with others - they'd had both men and women before the soul had intruded. So why did it matter now? Why did the thought of sharing Spike with other men, watching other men touch and kiss and fuck Spike make him seethe? 

"Maybe some other time," he muttered. Turning around, he let his eyes drift down Spike's body before rising back to meet a blue gaze that was quickly growing heated. "There's something else I'd rather do now." 

"Bit early to be makin' excuses an' leavin', ain't it? Party's just barely started, gotta stay an' do the pretty a bit longer." 

Angel put his hands behind his back, then extended his fingers in a slow stretch. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of stepping outside for some fresh air," he said softly, flexing his hand again. 

Spike gasped, not sure what was hotter-the fact that Angel was coming on to him like this or the fact that they were standing in the middle of a party while he did it. Another brush against his rapidly hardening prick made him decide that he could think about that later. "Right, fresh air," he croaked. 

"Lorne says that Sebassus has a beautiful rose garden," Angel commented casually. He turned around and locked eyes with Spike, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile at the heat that burned in those blue eyes. 

"Always a nice treat. Oughta take a look at 'em while you're here, then." The carefully polite words seemed to heighten the anticipation, and when Angel nodded and walked away, it was all Spike could do to keep from immediately chasing after him. He turned and headed in the opposite direction, pausing to smile and make polite conversation when a Grithal demon cornered him, all the while counting down to a time that he could slip away without too much notice. 

The Grithal wanted to get chatty, asking about Angel and the business, as though Spike had any voice at all in the running of Wolfram & Hart. He swallowed his insults and did his best to channel his sire's calm refusal to discuss business, breathing a sigh of relief when Harmony came up and the Grithal turned its attention to charming her. Muttering something about a smoke, he made a beeline for the door, fresh air, freedom... and Angel. 

Once outside, Spike set off down a gravel path towards the gardens he could see further down the lawn. The noise of the party gradually faded into a general buzz before dissipating entirely. He didn't have much time to savor the quiet before a hand shot out of the darkness to pull him off the path. The heavy perfume of roses wrapped around him as he was drawn close to a solid body, his mouth claimed in a hard kiss. 

"Do you have any idea what you looked like in there?" Angel whispered against Spike's lips. He slid his hands down to cup the perfect ass, pulling him against his hips. "They were all staring at you, you know." 

"Wasn't the only one, mate. Oughta put a warnin' on you with the formal togs." Spike pressed against his sire's erection, feeling his own cock harden in response. "Course, I prefer you naked - more convenient an' all." 

Angel chuckled. "You can have all the convenience you want later, baby." The word was out of his mouth before he realized it, the widening blue eyes proof that he wasn't the only one surprised by it. Before he could think about what it meant or didn't mean, he reversed their positions and kissed Spike again, pushing him back against the garden wall. 

Spike barely had a second to wonder what the hell Angel meant before a hand closed on his cock, squeezing him through his pants. He moaned and decided that he could wait til later for those answers, especially when Angel unfastened his slacks and reached in to pull his dick out. 

They kissed, tongues tangling while Angel stroked him, slow and then fast, then stopping altogether when Spike felt like screaming. A broad hand squeezed him with just the right pressure, then Angel broke away to mutter, "Don't move," against his lips just before he dropped down to his knees. Spike barely had time to think about the damage he was doing to his pants when a tongue swept over the crown of his prick and thought became impossible. 

Long licks up and down his shaft left him shining in the moonlight as Angel treated him to the slowest, most luxurious tongue bath he'd ever had. Spike was fighting the urge to beg when one hand slid into his slacks to cup his balls, rolling them gently in a large palm. "Fuck, please, Angel, gimme - God, need you, need to feel your mouth, pleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE!" 

Angel tilted his head back and smiled up at Spike, his free hand slowly jacking his boy's cock. "Thought you weren't the begging kind," he teased lightly. 

"Beg, plead, grovel if you want so long's it means you'll suck me," was the hoarse answer. He didn't doubt that he'd end up regretting the hasty words, but at that moment nothing mattered more than the promise of bliss that was hovering just out of reach. 

There was no warning, just the sudden movement of a dark head and Spike was taken deep into his sire's mouth. Spike groaned and bucked up, seeking more, but two large hands slid into his pants, gripping his hips and pressing him back against the wall. Angel didn't bother to lift his head or say anything, but the message was clear - no moving, or he'd stop. 

He drew back slowly, dragging his mouth up the length of Spike's dick until he licked the tip, then began a descent that seemed even longer. Time spun out of meaning as Angel toyed with his childe, each single motion of his head drawn out into eons, his tongue sliding over skin with torturously slow strokes, hands holding him still, forcing him to fight every instinct he possessed. 

Robbed of the movement his body screamed for, Spike moaned and rolled his head back and forth against the wall. His hands clenched into fists as he struggled to keep from grabbing Angel's head and forcing him to a faster pace. Angel almost never went down on him, and certainly not like this, drawing it all out like he was trying to make it last. 

And last it did, longer than either of them would've thought possible. Angel could feel the need that coursed through Spike's body, feel the tension in the narrow hips that twitched against his grip, and when they were both teetering on the breaking point, he drew back, then suddenly plunged his head all the way down, sucking so hard that his cheeks hollowed. It was the final straw. Spike howled, banging the back of his head against the wall hard enough to see stars as he shot down Angel's throat. 

Angel drank him down eagerly, pulling back near the end to feel those last spurts over his tongue. He rolled the taste in his mouth while he let Spike slip free, hand slipping down to fumble with his dress slacks. The boxers got in way and he cursed softly as he struggled to get his cock out, wondering if maybe this was why Spike always went without anything underneath.

In a dizzying turn of events that he never really followed, Angel found himself on his feet, leaning back against Spike. One arm was wrapped around his chest, while a slender hand curled around his cock and held him tight. There was no teasing like he'd done, nothing but a steady stroke that made him moan and press forward into that firm grip. He was close, riding the edge that he'd barely felt coming, but the only thing he could think to say was, "Spike, I'm -" 

"Yeah, that's it, pet, can feel how close you are. Give it up, wanna see you cream all over, right here where anybody could see you. An' it wouldn't stop you, would it? You'd love it, love seein' them watch you come." 

He groaned, dick swelling to almost painful proportions before he came in a white-hot rush of release. Distantly he could hear the soft patter of liquid as it fell to earth. He drifted back to himself to find that Spike had somehow tucked him away and set them both to rights again, although as Spike had pointed out, there would be no hiding what had happened from most of the ball's guests. And if Angel were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that having Spike marked with his scent wasn't such a bad thing after all. But he couldn't say that to Spike, so he just asked, "Think anyone will say anything?" 

The blond snorted. "What, an' risk offendin' Sebassus' newest golden boy? Not bloody likely." 

"I'm not a golden boy," Angel muttered, although the words lacked heat. He was being groomed for something, he knew that. Sebassus hadn't exactly made his desire for Angel's presence at the party a secret, after all. 

"If you say so, mate." Spike glanced over his shoulder, then shrugged. "Better be headin' back in. Probaby not a good idea to drop by later, right?" 

"Right." As he watched Spike head back to the party, looking for all the world like he hadn't done more than step out for a smoke, Angel thought again about the men he'd seen on the dance floor and wondered again why it would've been such a bad idea for them to be seen in public together.


	5. Rule #5 - No telling. Not ANYBODY

The doors to the medical wing swung open with enough force to dent the walls on either side, but Angel didn't look back at them, just stalked towards the main examination room. Employees all around him took one look at his set features and scattered.   
  
He reached the room just as the doctor was coming out, grabbing hold of the man's white lab coat before he could also disappear. "Tell me."   
  
"M-Mr Angel! We didn't expect - that is, I mean to say that you're - "   
  
A hard shake shut him up. "You've got my people in there, which means they're hurt. Tell. Me."   
  
The doctor swallowed hard, then started with the least injured. "Mr Gunn has a few bruises and a dislocated shoulder. We've set his shoulder back, but he should be removed from active duty for at least -"   
  
"No problem. And the others?" Angel folded his arms and glowered at the doctor, making it clear that he knew there was more that he wasn't telling.  
   
"Mr Wyndham-Pryce has a broken wrist and concussion. I'd like to keep him overnight for observation, just to be on the safe side."   
  
"Fine." He started to go into the room when he heard the doctor say, "I'd also like to keep Mr Spike as well..."   
  
Angel whirled around, his eyes pinning the doctor in place. "Spike? Why?"   
  
"He - well, it would appear that he was in the worst area of the fighting and- "   
  
He shifted instinctively. "What the hell happened to him?!?" Seeing the terror on the doctor's face, Angel pushed his demon back and tried again, doing his best to keep calm. "How bad is he hurt?"   
  
"H-he has lacerations on his arms and legs, as well as several rather deep stab wounds to the chest and abdomen," the doctor stammered. "We've stitched the wounds, but until we're assured that there's no internal bleeding -"   
  
Angel didn't wait for him to finish. He pushed past the man into the exam room, doors hitting the wall with a thud as he threw them open. Gunn and Fred looked up from where they stood, one on either side of Wesley's bed, and even the Englishman opened his eyes long enough to give Angel a brief nod and tired attempt at a smile, but the vampire in the second bed didn't stir. He just lay there, still and far too pale for comfort.   
  
Angel forced himself to go over to the humans first. "Hey, Wes. How... how are you holding up?"   
  
Wesley swallowed and grimaced. "I should be fine, provided my head doesn't explode."  
   
"No exploding heads allowed," Fred assured him. "You're one of the good guys, remember? That only happens to the really icky monsters, so I'd say you're pretty safe." She touched his head, fingers lightly brushing the bruise on his temple as though to reassure herself of the truth of those words.   
  
Angel barely heard Wesley's reply, for he'd finally looked over at Spike, and the sight of his childe made everything else fall away. He looked so small and un-Spikelike, lying so still in the hospital bed, his skin almost as white as the sheet that covered him. Angel wanted to go over and shake him, demand that he wake up and say something annoying, just so he knew that whatever had happened wasn't that bad.   
  
He turned away from his friends and approached Spike's bed. He looked at the long tube that was feeding blood back into the slender body, at the pale blue hospital gown that had replaced the usual black clothing, and understood Fred's need to touch, to reaffirm that there was still life there. One hand reached out towards the sharply chiseled face when Spike said, "Not dyin', ya ponce, so leave off already."   
  
Angel paused, his hand in midair. "Spike?"   
  
"No, Jesus Christ. Course it's me, you twat." Blue eyes opened and glared up at Angel, but the usual heat was lacking, and even Spike's sarcasm seemed somewhat faded.   
  
He let his hand fall back to his side, fighting a smile. If Spike was sniping at him, then he couldn't be nearly as bad off as the doctor seemed to think. He was fine, and all that worry had been for nothing. Hard on the heels of the relief, though, came an anger that suddenly made him see red. "What the hell were you thinking, going into that kind of a nest with no backup?" he demanded.   
  
"Not the only one who got nicked up, y'know! Seem to recall you takin' a few hits just last week to that insufferably hard head of yours. Sides, Wes an' Charlie got hurt, too, so how come you're not yellin' at them, huh?"   
  
"Because I'm not sleeping with  _them_ , Spike - I'm sleeping with you!"   
  
In the silence that followed, Angel could feel the weight of four pairs of eyes on him. When he turned around, unable to stand the sight of Spike's astonished ones, he came face to face with the open-mouthed stares of the humans, and he wasn't exactly sure which was worse - the single pair of eyes that bored into his back or the sense that any second now his friends were going to whip out crosses and start checking on the status of his soul.  
   
Wesley was the first to speak. "Angel, did you just -"   
  
"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his shoes.   
  
"I don't suppose that, given it  _is_  Spike we're talking about, pointing out -"   
  
"No, it won't."   
  
Spike watched his sire squirm for a few seconds under the Watcher's hard gaze before he said quietly, "Not that it isn't entertainin' havin' Angel in the hot seat an' all, but how's about we pause the show until the rest of us are up to joinin' in?"  
   
The reminder of the recent fight and injuries made them all think twice. If they'd been just a little less lucky, or one of the demons they took out a little luckier, there would've been so much more to worry about than who Angel chose to sleep with. And the fact that it was Spike who'd been in the thick of it, Spike who'd saved all of their lives more than once that night... that definitely made it a lot harder to object to whatever relationship the two vampires might have.   
  
Fred was the first to decide to put it aside. "That's a good idea, Spike. It gives us a chance to sell more tickets, anyway." Her sweet smile put Angel at ease, and he relaxed a little as she squeezed Wesley's hand and leaned forward to whisper in his ear before slipping out to find the doctor.   
  
Gunn nodded and muttered an agreement, then followed after Fred, leaving Angel alone with the two people he least wanted to be alone with. Wesley took a hitching breath, but Angel asked, "Look, Wes, can we talk about this later?"   
  
The Englishman hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fred said something about having the doctor set some rooms up, so hopefully we won't have to be in here all night."  
   
Angel gave him a relieved half-smile, then turned around to face Spike, fully prepared for a temper fit of epic proportions. But instead the blond just asked, "Seein' as we're throwin' rules out the window, that bit about never gettin' fangs near you again..."  
   
"Don't push it, Spike." But the hard edge was missing from his voice, and he knew full well that he'd let him drink the second the doctor released him, so grateful was he that he hadn't lost his boy, either to dusting or his own stupidity.


	6. Rule #6 - No using sex as a distraction

Angel would've liked to say that he was surprised when he walked out of the bathroom to find Spike in his bed, but he really wasn't. “Get out.” 

“Come on now, pet. Can't mean to say you're still mad about-“ 

“You telling everyone that I'm the best cocksucker you've ever known? Or no, wait... maybe that's not it. Maybe it was when you decided to share exactly what I sound like when I'm fucking you?“ Angel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the blond. “And those are 5000-count Egyptian cotton sheets. You'd better have pants on.” 

Spike snorted. “Not hardly. Gotta say, I can see why you like these sheets. Nice an' soft, aren't they? You use them when you get off, then?” 

“No! Spike, that's - that's sick. Now get out of my bed.” 

“Not sick at all.” Spike's hand slid over to his crotch, slowly stroking and Angel watched as a very familiar bulge formed, lifting the comforter under Spike's hand. 

Dammit, the little shit just wasn't happy unless he was turning Angel's life upside down! “What the hell are you doing?” 

“What's it look like?” Spike was caressing the bulge with his fingertips now, moving up and down as it twitched, pushing against the covers like a puppy begging to be petted. 

Angel swallowed, pretending he wasn't looking at Spike as he teased his cock through the covers. “It looks like you're keeping me from going to bed. If you want to do that, go do it in your own bed, but get out of mine.” 

“Don't have the special sheets, though.” Spike flattened his hand against his dick and rubbed, then moaned. He looked over at Angel and nodded at the tent that was rising under his towel. “Looks like you might need to take care of somethin' there as well.” 

His dick twitched as Spike pushed his hips up against his palm, but Angel pretended not to notice. “I'll give you a set of sheets,” he offered hoarsely. He was getting desperate to get Spike out of there, before he - 

Spike curled his fingers around his cock, his shape clearly evident for the first time. He squeezed and groaned. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

“Spike -” 

“Don't have to stand there watchin', mate. Just go back in your bathroom an' I'll be gone when you come out, then we'll both pretend it never happened, yeah? Won't even say anythin' about you jerkin' off in there.” He started to move, slowly fucking his cloth-covered hand. 

“I'm not - I wouldn't be - that's not the point, Spike!” But the longer Angel stood there watching Spike, the less he knew what the point was. Or cared. The blond moaned and Angel's dick twitched, pushing against the towel. 

Spike pressed up against the sheets, then pulled back, moaning at the drag of soft cotton over sensitive skin. “Fuck, that feels good!” He reached up to tease one of his nipples, hissing as he pinched himself. “C'mon, Angel, can't tell me you don't wanna touch.” 

Angel's hand slid over to grasp his erection even as he argued, “I don't. Not at all.” 

“Doesn't look that way to me, mate.” Blue eyes stared at him and Angel bit back a moan at the heat in their depths. 

He forced himself to uncurl his fingers despite the dull throb of protest that sang through him. He couldn't completely ignore the need that was threatening to make him forget about Spike being in his bed, so compromised on pressing his palm against his shaft instead. “Yeah, well, you always did have a vision problem.” 

Spike didn't bother replying, just moaned and started to move a little faster, tightening his grip so that the cotton was almost continually wrapped around his cock. 

Angel couldn't look away, and despite himself, he heard his own voice ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

“How good it feels,” was the low answer. “How hard I am an' - ohhhh yeah, how much I want it.” 

“What want?” He pressed harder, feeling the towel start to get damp under his hand. 

Spike didn't answer for a few minutes, too lost in sensation to reply. Finally he muttered, “Wanna fuck... get fucked... anythin' so long as - oooohhhh, right there, just like that!” He squeezed as hard as he could through the covers and started to rapidly fuck up into his hand. 

Angel licked his lips, rocking his hand slowly against his aching dick. “So long as you can come for someone?” he asked in a low voice. 

“Yeah,” Spike moaned. His eyes slid closed, the bed shaking under him as he chased his orgasm. His balls were drawing up tight and it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge. 

Fuck, he was beautiful! Angel watched his childe writhing on the bed, thinking about how he would look if it were his hands and not Spike's that were giving such pleasure. He groaned and pushed his hips against his hand, then whispered, “Come for me, Spike.” 

“Oh... Oh God... yeah... so close, Angel... fuck!” Spike let out a strangled scream as he arched nearly off the bed, pushing up into his fist as he started to come, soaking the sheet around his cock with each jet of blessed relief. He finally collapsed back against the bed and pried his eyes open to see Angel standing at the foot of the bed, staring at him with hungry eyes. “Like that, did you?” 

“Yeah. You're so fucking pretty when you come,” Angel replied. He was rocking against his hand now, the little nubs on the terrycloth driving him nuts as they teased his dick. “Makes me want -” 

“Want what?” Spike asked, rising up onto his elbows, his eyes darkening as he caught sight of what Angel was doing. 

Angel groaned. “Makes me want to fuck you,” he admitted. “I see you like that and I think about what it feels like to have you move like that while I'm inside you.” He could feel heat crawling up his legs, and knew it wouldn't be long. 

Spike moaned softly. “Now there's a thought,” he said softly. “Wanna fuck me, Angel? Feel me squeeze you tight when I come?” 

“Fuck, yeah,” he hissed. There was no question of stopping now, not when he was getting close and Spike was looking at him like that. Angel humped against his hand faster, thinking about Spike moaning as he fucked him, begging for more and- “Yeah,” he breathed again, the word slowly becoming a chant. “Yeah... yeah, yeah... ohhhh shit, yeah!” His cock hardened to the point of almost pain and with the last word he was coming, shooting into the towel as pleasure washed over him and pulled his orgasm out in hard pulses. 

Hands pried the towel out of his grip and tossed it aside. “You're pretty hot when you come, too,” Spike told him. Angel slowly came out of his daze to see Spike kneeling on the bed in front of him. He knew he should probably be upset at what had just happened, but when Spike lowered his head and started to lick him clean, he couldn't seem to care about it.


	7. Rule #7 - No sappy stuff

The room was dark enough that only someone with supernatural sight could make out anything more than vague outlines, but Angel didn't care. He knew Spike liked opening the drapes and basking in the special windows, and he wasn't about to deny that Spike writhing beneath him in the sunlight was a gorgeous sight, but he preferred it like this. Dark. Warm. Safe. Like a pair of animals in their den, the heavy drapes closing the light out until it was just the two of them alone with each other.   
  
He knew it wasn't politically correct, but he gloried in the power that he found with Spike in the darkness. They might stand on relatively equal ground out on patrol, might argue and question each other's decisions as much as they liked while in his office, but here... here he reigned supreme. Here he was the conqueror and Spike his very willing slave, although his victory came in a form he knew he never would have acknowledged when he was soulless. Then it had been all about the act, about the control that let him pin his boy to the mattress and ravage his body as he pleased, marking him with cock and fangs until he begged for mercy. Spike's pleasure had been incidental, the possibility that climax would be allowed just one more tool in his arsenal of sadistic seduction. It had taken two souls and a century apart for Angel to learn the erotic power that came with driving his lover to heights of almost unbearable desire and need before sending him careening over the edge into an orgasm that left him nearly as shaken as Spike afterwards. And it was then, with Spike lying boneless and satisfied in his arms, that Angel truly felt the full force of his conquest.   
  
Weekends were quickly becoming someting to look forward to, rather than something to be merely endured. During the week, he had to get up and go downstairs, tend to the neverending reams of paper that found their way to his desk and the needs of his friends, but the weekend was given over to his lover. It felt strange to think of Spike that way, but after the night he'd showed up and stayed until morning, he couldn't deny that it was what he was. Spike was the one who listened to him rant after a hard day, then soothed his troubles away with his magical hands and mouth. And last week, when he hadn't been able to save a young runaway, it was Spike who'd held him and watched over his uneasy dreams.   
  
They patrolled at night together, bickered and sniped at each other until Fred threatened to surgically remove both their tongues, and spent long, lazy Sundays in bed relearning each other's bodies with teasing touches until the light play gave way to more frantic need. Afterwards, they lay amid the rumpled sheets and breathed in the scent of sex that hung heavily in the air, sometimes talking quietly, other times enjoying a companionable silence like the one that had currently fallen over the room. But always, over it all, was the sense of family and bonds and the growing hope that maybe this was the answer that his lonely heart had yearned for.   
  
Turning his head, Angel studied the bright head that lay on the pillow so close to him, the white-blond strands still mussed from their recent wild lovemaking. He reached out to trace the line of one sharp cheekbone, fingers feathering over skin that shouldn't be nearly this soft after over a hundred years of life. "Spike?"   
  
"Hmmm?"   
  
"You... you wouldn't lie to me, would you?" He bit his lip, wondering why he'd just said that. But deep down, he knew.   
  
Spike shifted, rolling over onto his side, hand reaching out to find Angel's chest. "Try not to, anyway. What's this about?"   
  
Angel hesitated for a second. It could change everything, and for a fleeting instant he thought about dropping it. But the words flew out before he could stop them. "Do you love me?"   
  
"What?" The word was hard, cutting through the dim quiet of the late afternoon that had swaddled them, but Angel tried not to notice, pretended he was too wrapped up in stroking his fingers over the hollow just beneath Spike's cheekbone and the way the skin changed texture ever so slightly.   
  
"Do you love me?" He knew he'd made a mistake as soon as the words had left his lips. Spike stiffened beside him, then snatched his hand back and rolled away, leaving Angel's hand hovering in the air.   
  
The intimate darkness vanished as the bedside light was switched on, its harsh yellow bulb revealing an agitated Spike who glared at the man still lying in bed. "What the hell kind of question is that? Askin' if I love you. This isn't some soddin' fairytale where I confess my feelin's an' we go skippin' hand in hand off into the sunset, mate! We're vampires, for Christ's sake, made to feed an' fight an' fuck, an' just because we've changed how we do the first two, doesn't mean we gotta be hearts an' flowers about the shaggin'."   
  
Angel's stomach dropped down to his knees. He'd been so sure that it was more than just sex, that Spike really did care for him, and learning that he was wrong cut deeper than he'd expected. "But I - I thought that -"   
  
"That what? You'd ask an' I'd lay my heart at your feet? Jesus, you really are a poof, aren't you?" Spike grabbed his jeans up and yanked them on, then snatched a shirt up from the tangled heap of clothes near the bed, pulling it over his head.   
  
Pale, perfect skin vanished beneath a sea of black, and Angel swallowed hard. "Wait. I didn't mean - Spike, where are you going?"   
  
"Away from you!" The slam of the bedroom door was followed shortly by the front door closing with a deafening bang, and Angel was left alone, still tangled in sheets that smelled like Spike and sex.   
  
He looked at the empty space beside him and said softly, "I guess I can be glad you didn't ask me, because you wouldn't have liked my answer." Tossing the covers back, he walked into the bathroom to take his shower. He'd been neglecting his work over the weekends, too busy with Spike to worry about more than an occasional patrol, and people had likely died as a result. It was time to put his foolish dreams aside and go back to what he did best.   
  
But somehow his feet seemed to grow heavier with every step he took.


	8. Rule #8 - No cheating

Spike drained his glass and signaled the bartender for another. He figured he had at least five or six more rounds before he got cut off and had to move on to the next bar, and he might as well take advantage of them. Maybe tonight he'd finally succeed in getting drunk enough to forget about the fight he'd had with Angel - and if he didn't, there was always tomorrow. He'd been drinking almost steadily since he left the penthouse eight days ago (not that he was counting, of course), and he had every intention of continuing until he was too shitfaced to care about what he'd lost.  
  
Fucking Angel. Where the hell did he get off asking a question like that? And then acting all kicked puppy when he didn't get an answer right away, as though he didn't know exactly what it would've been. Spike wasn't under any illusions about what had gone on in that room, although he'd hoped they were past that now. Stupid him, thinking Angelus would ever give up his little games just because he happened to have a soul now.  
  
That particular game always cut the deepest, but at least he'd learned the rules before the last bits of his heart had been stomped on. He wasn't the same stupid fledge who'd handed everything over to his sire for the asking anymore. He'd stopped being that pathetic little wuss a hundred years, three dead Slayers, and several broken hearts ago. He was his own man, now. Nothing was going to change that, not windows that let him fuck in sunlight for the first time ever or sinfully soft cotton sheets over the thickest mattress he'd ever known, and certainly not soft-eyed sires who moved like a wet dream come to life.  
  
“Show  _him_ ,” Spike muttered, slamming the whiskey back, raising his hand for another as he set the glass down with a thunk. “Not gonna crawl, don't care how good he is in bed.”  
  
“Oh, honey, I wouldn't say that. After all, a man who knows what he's doin' isn't exactly somethin' to throw away,” a husky drawl advised him. Spike glanced over his shoulder to see a brunette appraising him with a frankly sexual eye. “Of course, someone who looks like you shouldn't have any trouble keepin' his bed full, anyways.”  
  
He shifted on his stool, turning towards her a little more fully, treating her to the same heated gaze she'd given him. Not a traffic-stopper by any means, but she had lush curves that could fill a man's hands quite nicely and the confident way she met his stare promised plenty of experience. She was clearly a woman who knew what she liked and went after it, and he'd obviously just been added to the list. “Wanna come sit by me and tell me all about it, sugar?”  
  
Any other night, Spike would've smiled and declined the invitation, maybe bought her a drink to ease some of the possible sting. But this wasn't any other night. Without even really being aware of how it happened, he found himself getting up and moving down the bar to the stool beside her. He wasn't about to tell her about Angel, not when he was still trying to put it all behind him, so he just shook his head when she asked again, and tapped the bar.  
  
A fresh drink appeared and he picked it up, giving her a heated look over the rim as he raised it to his lips. The steps of seduction were as easy as ever- a little sheen on the lips after he drank, a flash of his tongue as he licked it off, the brush of his fingers against the side of her breast when he set the glass down and rummaged in his coat for a cigarette... all the fine details that stoked the heat inside her until she set her own glass down and asked, “Your place or mine?”  
  
He didn't have a place anymore, not unless he counted the little hole in the wall that passed for an apartment, and Spike didn't. Not like it had ever been anything but a place to sleep, anyways, and he hadn't even done that there for at least a month. So he gave her his best smirk, slipped down from the stool and moved close enough to slip one leg in between hers, pressing lightly against her. “Mine's a ways off. Hopin' yours is closer, yeah?”  
  
One hand slid into his hair, nails lightly scoring his scalp. “My hotel's just down the street,” she assured him, tugging him down to meet her lips in a hot, wet kiss. There was plenty of tongue on both their parts and when he raised his head, she was rocking against his leg with tiny rolls of her hips, her arousal filling the air around him like an exotic perfume that he almost didn't recall.  
  
Tossing the last of his stolen credit cards on the bar, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down from the stool, giving her another hard kiss before leading her outside. Barely a minute later, they were in an alley halfway to her hotel and she was gasping as she came in his hand. Spike gave her a few seconds to recover, then eased his fingers free and grinned at her. “Thought you could use a taste, yeah?”  
  
“Oh, I'm planning on having a lot more than just a taste,” she assured him, flattening her hand against his crotch.   
  
He groaned as she rubbed her palm over his swelling dick, thrusting into her touch for a second before deciding that he really didn't want to end up fucking in an alley when there was a bed somewhere nearby. Or at least that was the reason he gave himself. The possibility of Angel coming across them on one of his patrols had nothing at all to do with it. Catching hold of her hand, he raised it to press a kiss into her palm. “What say we move this inside, pet? Not sure I can wait much longer.”  
  
“Easy, tiger. We've got all night, remember?” she laughed, but they were soon walking again. When they reached the Hyatt, she pressed a key card into his hand. “Why don't you go have a drink in the bar and then come up? I'll just go get ready.”  
  
Spike wasn't about to argue, and five double scotches later, he was finally slipping into that pleasant numb forgetfulness that he'd spent over a week chasing. Grabbing the key card, he headed up to the room, fumbling with the door before he managed to get it open. As it closed behind him, he shrugged out of his coat and started towards the bedroom, then stopped in the doorway and stared at the naked woman what lay stretched out in the center of the huge bed. “Hope you weren't plannin' on startin' without me,” he teased, pulling his shirt off. It fell to the floor as he started walking, boots and pants following in short order.  
  
She stretched a hand out, stroking over his thigh, her eyes sliding over the lines of his body with an obvious hunger. “I was thinkin' I might have to, but now I'm glad I waited.” Her hand slid in to curl around his dick, giving him a gentle squeeze. She began to stroke him, a slow movement that made his eyelashes flutter, and he rocked into it, shoving into her fist as he hardened further.  
  
“Oh, you're gonna be more'n glad, pet,” he assured her, smirking as he cupped one full breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple. The dusky flesh drew tight and she mewled softly as he urged her onto her back, her legs opening easily for him. Spike didn't bother with finesse, didn't attempt to pretend as he dove straight down into her pussy.  
  
She was ripe for him, already wet from their play in the alley, and he lapped her up like honey. Hands clutched at his hair as she shifted and writhed beneath him, bucking up hard as the first climax hit her. There was no quarter offered, however, no chance to regroup before another assault began. He devoured her, growling softly as he feasted, the heady nectar going straight to his dick until he couldn't wait any longer.  
  
Lifting one of her legs up over his shoulder, he surged up the length of her body, burying himself inside with one hard thrust. She moaned, wrapping her other leg around his waist, but he barely noticed in the frenzy that gripped him. It was hard and fast, both of them given over to the purely physical drive, the instinctive need for more, and when she moaned and clamped down around him, he ground down against her and came.  
  
She barely let him finish before she pushed his chest back enough to lower her leg, hooked her ankles around his knees, and rolled them over. Glittering blue eyes watched as she started to ride him, her hips snapping forward sharply, hands sliding up to cup her breasts. Spike groaned with renewed lust, rehardening at the sight, and she moaned as he thrust up into her. One hand started down her stomach, but he beat her to it, fingers sliding into the dark curls between her legs to play with her clit. He lost track of how often she came like that, shrieking and shaking over him, knew only that when he took her down once more she was a wild thing. She thrashed beneath him, her nails slicing into his back as he hammered into her, intent only on his own need to come.  
  
Another scream filled the room and Spike groaned, his cock swelling to almost painful need before it slammed into him. He clutched her hips hard, felt teeth clamp down on his shoulder, and he was gone. Heat flashed through him, his body jerking with every shot that ripped out of him until he sagged down against her. From somewhere he drew the strength to roll off to the side where he lay like a dead man, throwing one arm up over his eyes as he listened to her soft gasps give way to more steady breathing.  
  
“You weren't kiddin',” she murmured, one hand petting his upper arm before it fell away. “That was definitely a ride to remember!”  
  
He would've thanked her for the compliment had he been able. As it was, he managed to mutter only one word before the days he'd spent drinking finally caught up to him and he blacked out: “Angel.”


End file.
